


Mistletoe

by Lipstickcat



Series: Eerie Advent Calendar [2]
Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Advent Calendar, M/M, Prompt Fill, eerie advent calendar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Lipstickcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 2 of the Eerie Advent Calendar. For the prompt "It's another tradition"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe

"It's another tradition," Simon explained as he stood on a wobbly stool to hang mistletoe above the doorway in the Old Mill. 

Dash looked around at the garish tinsel and shiny coloured balls scattered around his home. The kid meant well, but it looked like a unicorn had had explosive diarrhoea all over his hide out. 

"It'd be a better tradition if there was a chick to kiss under it," Dash sourly pointed out. 

Climbing down, Simon ignored him and stood back to admire his handiwork. Hands on his hips, he was beaming like only a ten year old could when faced with this kind of Christmas jollity. It was enough to give Dash diabetes. 

*** 

"It's a tradition now," Simon argued as Dash tried to tug-o-war the length of tinsel out of his hands. 

"But it's an Old _Haunted_ Mill! Ghosts don't decorate for the holidays!" 

Simon tugged hard. Harder than Dash really expected from a wimpy, violence hating eleven year old kid, and the foil actually burned as it whipped through his clenched palm. 

"No one ever comes here anyway!" Simon stalked away, already going to fetch the stool and the mistletoe. 

Dash sucked on the pad of his hand where a hairline tinsel-cut started to bleed. His voice was muffled and interspersed with exaggerated suckling noises. "You two idiots did." 

Marshall shot him a look from where he was untangling fairy lights. 

"One time doesn't make a tradition, anyway," Dash pouted and scowled at his hand, squeezing the flesh to try to convince it to bleed more and make him feel justified in being so grumpy. He didn't even notice Marshall abandoning what he was doing and sidling over to him. 

"Just give him this, Dash," Marshall's voice was low, his eyes on Simon teetering on the stool, out of earshot. "Don't you see how beat up these ornaments are? Do you think he'd be here if he got to decorate a tree at home?" 

Dash looked over at how Simon was focused on getting the mistletoe to hang just right and felt a wave of shame. He nodded silently, and went to help with the lights. 

*** 

"Third year in a row! It's a proper tradition now!" Simon was beaming around the box of glittery crap he was holding, but Dash could see the set of his jaw and how he was already tensed to fight about this. 

The kid had experienced a growth spurt this year and now he was taller than Dash. Dash on the other hand was resolved to the fact that if he was ever going to have his own growth spurt, at the age of seventeen he had probably already bypassed it, along with his memories of that precious period of puberty. He had no desire to fight with Simon and that was as good an excuse as any. 

"Yeah, I guess. Knock yourself out," he waved a lazy hand as he turned away. 

Stopping by the woodworm eaten remains of a desk, Dash picked up a small brown paper wrapped package. Simon was already pulling out the blasted plastic mistletoe when Dash approached. Did he think it would magic up some ghost chicks or something? Hopeful kid. 

"I got you something," he muttered, thrusting the package at Simon. Damn if the kid's face didn't light up, like a fucking kid at Christmas, ironically enough. 

Dash didn't have many friends to hold the yardstick to, but he was sure that the older he got, the more of an enigma Simon became. Maybe it was that riot of red curly hair, or all the things that were missing from his childhood that Dash had only really started noticing since Marshall had pointed them out to him, (and who would blame Dash for not really noticing to begin with? He was missing many of the same things and at least Simon _had_ parents, but maybe that wasn't really much of a blessing to speak of). Either way, Simon was a walking contradiction. So tall, filling out fast now so that he wasn't as awkward and gangly as his complexion would dictate he should be. Smart beyond his years. Yet there was a painful innocence about him, like he refused to become streetwise and hard to the lessons his daily life taught him, refused to become like his grey haired friend. 

Those goddamn cheeks of his were in full bloom as he smiled down on Dash. "Can I open it now?" 

"Sure. Don't get too excited though," he wiggled his fingers in Simon's face. "It's not like I paid for it..." 

Beneath the paper that Simon quickly tore away was a brand new ornament. A star; hollow in the middle, built from intricate swirls of gold painted wire. It had a thin chain from one point to hang it, and a tealight candle sitting in the middle. 

"Thank you!" Simon's joy burst out of him so hard that Dash found himself caught in the blast. No, wait, that was just Simon hugging him so hard he thought he might squeeze his guts out his head and feet simultaneously. 

"It's nothing," he managed to grumble, but that just made Simon squeeze him harder. 

*** 

Dash had nothing but silent reverence as Simon lit the candle in the star decoration and hung it in his window. Outside, the alleyway that his small apartment overlooked was dark and frosty, but Dash thought that he could see a little sparkle in the iced over bricks on the wall opposite and it made him smile. 

"Another tradition, I think," he said quietly once he felt the moment had been left to pass for long enough. 

Simon smiled back at him and went to his crumpled box to start pulling out decorations to put on the tree. The tree itself was thin and short, rough around the edges and Marshall had commented on it as such; the college boy with no sense that just because someone had a job now, it didn't mean that he had money to spare. After rent and food, Dash was still penniless, he was just tired most days now as well. Simon replied that he liked it; the tree was a lot like Dash, and it had a lot of character. 

Mostly, Dash sat back, nibbled on a mince pie and watched Simon and Marshall trim the tree. He hummed a tune that might have been a carol to himself. He only bothered with any of this Christmas stuff for Simon's sake anyway. 

He had the chair and plastic mistletoe out and ready for Simon when he was done. He held the back steady as Simon climbed up to hang it. 

"That thing never works," he commented and one handedly crammed another mince pie into his mouth, whole. He spat crumbs as he continued to complain, his cheeks full. "No one ever comes up here but you two."

Marshall watched them both from next to the tree. He didn't say a word as he sat down in Dash's spot and reached for a mince pie too. 

***

With Marshall away at college for most of the year, Simon spent more time around at Dash's. He had a part time job and spent a lot of his money buying things for the flat that Dash swore he didn't need but then used once he had them. They were Simon's things, of course, and when he moved out of home into his own place Dash was resolved that they would go with him. Simon was investing in his future and who could blame him?

The star was lit and hanging in the window, tree trimmed, and mistletoe up. A slightly damp, delicious smelling, heat hung in the air of the apartment as Simon busied himself in the kitchen cooking pigs in blankets and experimenting with mince meat filled vol-au-vents. In the living room a cheap, tinny stereo was playing cheap, tinny festive songs. 

Marshall was late and had missed some of the traditions, but in a secret way, Simon had liked that as it had just been him and Dash. For most of the year it had just been them, so it felt right to share those moments too. And Dash grumbled about stuff a lot less without Marshall around. 

The knock at the door came at a crucial moment, while Simon was making the lids to his little puff pastry containers. He glanced through the doorway to the living room and saw Dash get up to answer the front door, disappearing behind the tree that blocked the view. So Simon shouted his cheerful greeting over the noise of the gently whirring oven and the strains of "All I Want for Christmas" and returned to his task. 

There would be plenty more traditions before the night was over. He had snacks and drinks, there were a couple of presents under the tree, and a whole line up of Christmas films on TV. Marshall had barely missed anything.

Simon was still wearing oven mitts as he walked out into the living room, a garishly festive serving tray held between them, milk and cookies balanced on it. His cheerful smile quickly faded, though, a horrible feeling catching in his chest.

Marshall and Dash were standing beneath _his_ mistletoe. Kissing. 

Before either older boy could pull themselves away from each other, Simon put down the tray, pulled off his mitts and hurried to the door. He didn't even know what excuses he spluttered out as he put on his scarf and coat, only that he told a stunned looking Dash not to let the vol-au-vents burn. Then he rushed down the cold outer stairwell and into the alleyway with the sinking knowledge that the only place he could run to was home. 

*** 

The beat up box with the ornaments sat in the middle of Dash's living room, a thread of purple tinsel spilling out of it as if for the lack of any human's putting it up, it would have a go at doing it itself. The star sat on the windowsill, matches beside it. The mistletoe lay on a wooden chair. 

The room was cold and quiet. Dash sat in the dim light and waited for someone he knew wouldn't come. 

He remembered the thick taste of alcohol in Marshall's mouth as he stumbled into him. The laugh as he pointed up at Simon's decoration and the slight sneer as he suggested they try it out. 

Dash hadn't _not_ wanted it. Sober, he'd kissed back. But he hadn't wanted it at the cost of his friend. If he'd known how Simon would visit less, be more awkward when he was there, how his kitchen utensils would gather dust, he would have stepped away. 

Trying to salvage something out of the wreckage, he and Marshall had tried it out for a while. When the three of them were together, as often was the case when Marshall came back from college, the strain it put Simon under even as he smiled and laughed was clear. He always excused himself early, claiming to give them both some alone time. Eventually, Dash only saw Simon when Marshall was in town, like some socially fucked up reunion. 

And then not at all after they broke up.

"Fucking Christmas." His leg shot out in an angry jerk and knocked over the chair, sending the mistletoe scattering behind the couch. 

***

It took time to piece the shards of friendship back together, but time was something both Dash and Simon had. Neither wanted to be alone and there was always something weird going on in Eerie, just when they most needed company. Perhaps the town was on their side or something. 

By the time Christmas rolled around Simon was already soaking his fruit cake in an amount of alcohol that Dash was sure the sixteen year old wouldn't be able to handle. Of course, Dash got that alcohol for Simon; there was no way even with fake ID he would pass as twenty-one. Dash wasn't one to judge or stop underage drinking, but he couldn't help wonder if Marshall had ever explained to his friend just how drunk he'd been when had he turned up two years previously. 

Simon was cooking at his apartment for them both on a regular basis now, virtually mothering the older boy and making sure he ate solid meals before going to work on a night shift. And that was nice. It was no mother substitute, but it was good to have someone that cared if you had enough food in your belly, never mind that it was also good food. 

The cake was for Christmas day, a thank you for being invited over to the Teller's to share in their family celebrations. Things were still a little strained between Dash and Marshall, but when in all their friendship had that not been the case? Things seemed more normal when they were sniping at each other anyway. 

"Simon! If you don't hurry I'm going to light the candle without you!" Dash called over the clattering going on in his kitchen. 

A moment later, the tall redhead appeared in the doorway. He wore his hair shorter and slicked back now, his rounded face finally catching up with the rest of his body and growing more angular every day Dash saw him. Sometimes Dash looked at Simon and Marshall and felt like he wasn't just stunted, he was literally unchanging. Maybe he should cut and dye his hair, maybe grow a beard.... 

"I've still got to ice the cake and decorate it before the film starts," Simon shook his head, but of course he crossed the room to the window. 

Dash waited for him and held the decoration up as Simon lit the match, and then the candle. Dash hung the star in the window and they stood around it, watching it flicker in silence, shoulder to shoulder. There was a stillness in the air, comfortable and warm. Dash could feel Simon shift on his feet, and when he settled, his arm pressed a little harder to Dash's. 

"I hated breaking tradition," Simon's voice was quiet, as if he was afraid to stain the air with these memories. 

"Me too," Dash admitted. "Wait here, I got you something..." 

As Dash retreated to his bedroom he felt a tight anxiety in his chest. He could have got this all wrong and misunderstood everything, but he'd had plenty of time to think about it, to look at it from every angle and consider every consequence. He wanted to try. He was jittery as he returned to the window, carrying a cellophane wrapped package. 

"We forgot the mistletoe." 

Simon's voice was hard as he snapped back. "I don't want the mistl-"

He stopped and watched Dash pull the fresh green plant from the plastic wrapper. There was a red ribbon tied around the little bundle. Dash licked his lips nervously and then raised his hand to dangle the sprig over his head. 

Simon stared at him. 

From the kitchen an egg timer started trilling insistently. 

"I have to... Cookies..." 

Simon stepped up to Dash, put his hand on his shoulder and leant in to place a soft kiss on his lips. Then he hurried back to the kitchen. 

Yes. Dash like mistletoe. Definitely.


End file.
